


Wounded Soul

by tnnyoh



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussions of violence, Elizabeth says Indians because all her text books refer to them as such, Gen, Guilt, Hurt, Military Backstory, Missing Scene, Native American Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Racist Language, They don't give you details on what side it's on, While they do hint at Booker's heritage in the game, assumed backstory for booker, bad memories, so I'm just working with headcanons here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnnyoh/pseuds/tnnyoh
Summary: A moment to breath, a moment to think, a moment to tell.





	Wounded Soul

_Booker opens up to Elizabeth about wounded knee._

 

_________

 

"Booker, you're hurt" Elizabeth said frowning "Maybe we should stop and get you patched up?"

 

"Elizabeth, I'm fine. We have the Shock Jockey... now lets just get out of here." 

 

She grabbed his hand "No, I think I saw an abandoned shop back there, we can lay low for just a minute while I help you."

He yanked his hand away from her, a little harder than he intended to "I _said_ I'm fine"

 

"I don't care, Booker" She grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him with her towards the abandoned old shop.  There were a couple of knocked over bookshelves that Booker had guessed used to house the figurines that were in pieces all over the floor.  "Sit down" Elizabeth said "I'll block the door in case any more soldiers come" 

 

Booker obliged and sat down against one of the still standing bookshelves, He took a deep breath, it felt like the first breath he had taken in quite a while.  He watched Elizabeth move a crate or two over to the door to keep it from opening on the outside "We can stay here for a while" She said, brushing off her skirt which had gotten dust on it at some point during the gunfire outside. 

 

"I thought you wanted to get out of here?" He asked as she came over with a medical kit, she opened it up and went to work disinfecting his various cuts and tending to his bruises. He winced at one of the more painful ones.  

 

"Well, I do." She said, ripping gauze off the roll with her teeth "But, I'm exhausted. Aren't you?" 

 

"I'm tired, but we have to keep going" He winced again as she disinfected a rather painful gash he had on his forearm, "Shit" he said, biting his bottom lip

"You let these go far too long Mr DeWitt" Elizabeth said, she was shaking her head as though she were his personal nurse and had told him off many times previous for the same thing.  He badly suppressed a chuckle and she arched her eyebrows at him

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, _Nurse_ "

"Oh har har" Elizabeth said, wrapping gauze around his arm "If I don't do this, who will? You seem to have a death wish"

"What if I do?" His voice sounded more bitter than he intended it to. _shit_ he thought

"Booker" She said, frowning at him as she peaked through the medical bag, rifling through it no doubt looking for more things to cause his pain to become worse "That's not funny"

"It ain't a joke" He said, his face severe "If you'd seen what I'd seen, done what I done... maybe you'd want to die too"

She gave him an expression of... what was it? Pity? He didn't know, but he sure as hell knew he didn't deserve it. He was more used to people looking at him like he was a monster

"This is about what Slate said, isn't it?" She asked, clutching the bag in her lap as if she was afraid it would fly away if she let it go.  "I can see what he said... it really bothered you"

He looked down, full of shame and anger, he wished he was full of alcohol instead. At least that brought a different burning to his mind. He couldn't even look at her, she was so innocent, so pure... And he? He was just a monster.

"Booker, what... what happened at wounded knee?"

"I don't want to talk about it" He said curtly, he wasn't about to tell her what kind of a monster he was, he wasn't going to go into hard details about the things he had done. She'd run and never look back

He made the mistake of taking one small glance her way, she looked the saddest he had ever seen her, even when she had found out they had been spying on her in the tower, _damn it_.  He clenched his fist angrily, he was so determined to destroy everything good that had happened to him, Elizabeth may have started out as a job, but she had become more and more like his friend with each passing moment they spent together.  He didn't have a lot of friends.... it felt nice.

"I was sixteen years old" He said, taking a breath and closing his eyes as if he were remembering the atrocities that occurred "The man in charge, he looked at me like... I was a monster, I didn't agree with the violence they were showing against these people.."

"The Indians?"

"Native americans" Booker corrected "Yeah, I ... I hear them talk horrible things about them, I hear them talk about how they take our land, take our jobs, but I only ever saw them looking afraid to lose what little they had, I only ever saw them trying to keep the peace." He cringed, somehow talking about this was more painful than some of the wounds he had on his body

"I made the mistake of voicing that, just once.. But once was enough"

"What happened?"

"What do you think happened?" He asked, his voice low, he was straining to speak, it was like he was fighting to get the words out "They find out I'm sympathetic... they start looking at me wrong, start looking at me like one of them, dehumanizing me in front of the others."

Elizabeth motioned for his injured hand, she took the scarf that she had tied off of it and replaced it with some of the gauze she had in her bag, disinfecting the area before wrapping it.

"They accuse me of being native, start talking shit about me, nobody ever took me seriously again. Until I was faced with a choice, I could either walk away or..." He faltered a little bit... Should he tell her? Would she ever look at him the same again?

"I heard the damn voices ringing through my ears, they tortured me about it, they were going to kick me out of the army all together.  Thought I was too soft, and I thought I had something to prove, I was so angry... angry at myself for being weak, angry at my comrades for being so fucking racist, angry at my mother and father for pushing me to join the army in the first place.  And then the taunting started. I remember that day, it haunts my goddamn nightmares... But the push was when the man who started it all nudged me in the back and said 'Bet you won't kill em, won't kill your own kind'"

Elizabeth tightened the gauze on his hand and moved away from him "Why would he say that?"

"I don't know how he found out about it, but he knew.. They all knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I have native american heritage. That I ain't all white, or what they call 'proper' white"

"Booker..." He could tell by the look on her face that she had pieced together what happened next "You..."

"I killed my own kind, I remember lighting the tipis, I remember I felt sick to my stomach but something had taken over, some kind of primal rage... and I was terrified of myself in those moments, I can't even begin to explain what the fuck I was doing.. I felt angry at everyone and I took it out on the tribe.  A lot of people died that day, a lot of good, kind and innocent people.  And their blood is on my hands same as it flows through my veins."

He closed his eyes again, he couldn't look at her, he couldn't see her expression of disgust at him, at what he had done. "It's on my mother's side, her mother, my grandmother she was full, one hundred percent native.  So you can imagine my mother is pretty full too, ain't passing as a white woman, but my father was from European decent of some kind of another and when those genes get to me they are muddied and mixed up.  I pass for a white man in looks and in genocidal actions"

He opened his eyes "I'm no better than Comstock"

Elizabeth pursed her lips and shook her head slightly "Comstock is a racist deplorable man, he feels no remorse for the lives he has destroyed in the name of his beliefs. You aren't anything like Comstock."

"You sure about that?" He asked

"I can't imagine how hard this has been for you... having Slate throw all of that in your face. He's a terrible man"

"He was one of the ones who laughed along with the others" He said with a bitter chuckle "You know what they called me?"

"What?"

"And they always claim it's because of what I did.." He steeled himself "To the victims... I... uh.." He felt a wave of nausea as he remembered the violent acts he committed "I scalped some of the natives, you know what that means?"

 She nodded silently, he couldn't read her expression. Was she surprised, was she disgusted? He couldn't tell. "What did they call you?" she asked

"The White Injun" he said "Says its because I took 'souvenirs' off my victims like the natives are known to, but I know it was because my heritage"

"That's awful" She said with a gasp, she quickly covers her mouth

"Yeah well that's racism for you" He pulled himself up further against the bookshelf "You must think I'm a... " Elizabeth put her hand on his and shook her head "We've all done things we are not proud of, though the things you have done are horrific... You are not Comstock"

He sighed "I... I guess you're right"

"I know I'm right, Booker. Comstock would more likely decree that Natives belong in cages than ever feel remorse for killing them"

"Doesn't make what I did alright"

"No, it doesn't, but you can't undo what has passed. You can only look to the future" 

"For what? Redemption? I don't think it's possible for me to get to that. I don't think a man such as myself deserves redemption"

"I think you are a good man, Mr DeWitt. A good man who has done some bad things."

"I think that's oversimplifying it a bit"

"Mr DeWitt" She said, her expression severe "Just know that there is one person who does not believe you are irredeemable, there is one person who does not believe you are less because of your native heritage.  You have shown yourself to be a good man, hold on to that."

She held out her hand and he took it, It felt nice to know that Elizabeth was completely sincere in her words, no lies, no ulterior motives. She just wanted to be his friend, regardless of what he had done and who he had been. 


End file.
